


Tumblr Kiss Prompt Event

by PluviophileImagines



Category: Blue Lock (Manga), Haikyuu!!, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Characters Are Pro Heroes (My Hero Academia), F/M, Kissing, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26868064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PluviophileImagines/pseuds/PluviophileImagines
Summary: 750 follower celebration event with 30 prompt fills ofthese kiss promptsfrom my tumblrpluviophile-imagines__ __ __Do not repost, modify, copy, or translate my works on here or any third-party site, including reading as ASMR
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Gagamaru Gin/Reader, Iida Tensei | Ingenium/Reader, Kaminari Denki/Reader, Kirishima Eijirou/Reader, Midoriya Izuku/Reader, Sako Atsuhiro | Mr. Compress/Reader, Seishirou Nagi/Reader, Sero Hanta/Reader, Shidou Ryuusei/Reader, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Reader, Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader, Todoroki Shouto/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 196





	1. Prompts

Here's the prompt list and the character(s) I'll be filling out for each. They won't be posted in this order; just in whatever order I decide to write them.

  1. Breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths: Shigaraki (BNHA)
  2. Moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed: Kunigami (Blue Lock), Kirishima (BNHA)
  3. Kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s: Bakugo (BNHA)
  4. Throwing their arms around the other person, holding them close while they kiss Dabi: (BNHA)
  5. Hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp: Natsuo (BNHA)
  6. Lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up: Bokuto (Haikyuu), Sero (BNHA)
  7. Routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing: Deku (BNHA), Kunigami (Blue Lock)
  8. Being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward: Kirishima (BNHA)
  9. One small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other: Shinsou (BNHA)
  10. Staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in: Bakugo (BNHA)
  11. When one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more: Iida (BNHA), Tendou (Haikyuu)
  12. A hoarse whisper “kiss me”: Shigaraki (BNHA)
  13. Following the kiss with a series of kisses down the neck: Sero (BNHA)
  14. Starting with a kiss meant to be gentle, ending up in passion: Kaminari (BNHA)
  15. A gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss: Dabi (BNHA)
  16. When one person’s face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead: Nagi (Blue Lock), Futakuchi (Haikyuu)
  17. Height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes: Gagamaru (Blue Lock), Mr. Compress (BNHA), Kuroo (Haikyuu)
  18. Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap: Shinsou (BNHA)
  19. Kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing: Tensei (BNHA), Gagamaru (Blue Lock)
  20. Top of head kisses: Todoroki (BNHA)




	2. Deku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing

It’s probably the dumbest mistake ever.

In Izuku’s defense, there’s rarely anyone other than you and him in the penthouse office of his agency’s building. You’re his secretary, after all, and he doesn’t  _ need _ anyone else there unless they’re in a meeting with him. Besides, as he’d explained to you the first time he’d done it, he’s only been able to kiss you for a few weeks after  _ years _ of quietly wanting to. The novelty’s yet to wear off.

You probably should have told him to stop. The first time it happened, you had nightmare scenarios of  _ exactly this _ resulting; maybe Ground Zero would be waiting for him one day and witnesses one of his good-morning kisses, or one of his sidekicks would have a form for him to sign off on and walk in on you pecking his cheek as you drop papers on his desk. But Izuku’s a...  _ persuasive _ guy, and his mouth has a certain way of making you forget your anxieties.

It’s his fault anyway. You’re doing your damn work when he comes in, sitting at your desk in the middle of, well, calling  _ him _ to inform him of his appointment that he’s solidly fifteen minutes late to (the tardiness, to be fair, could  _ probably _ be attributed to you; you’d slept over the night before, which really you should know better to do on a work night).

But then Deku comes in before the third tone, beaming that smile that makes your heart skip a beat, and you forget entirely why you’d been in the middle of calling him. He walks through the elevator doors, clearly just as tunnel-visioned at the sight of you perched none too professionally on your desk with your phone still at your ear, and approaches you to reach around your waist with one arm and pull you up effortlessly into a kiss.

It’s a bit of a more grandiose good morning kiss than he usually gives, but if you’d been alone it wouldn’t have been unwanted.

It’s hardly unwanted anyway, because the sight of your handsome green-haired boyfriend makes all common sense fly out the window. You tilt your head up and accept the (chaste, to be fair, considering the way he’s holding you) brief kiss before you pull back and let him rest his forehead against yours. It’s not until his lips leave yours that the Izuku-induced haze recedes from your mind and you remember why, exactly, the phone that you’d dropped back on your desk had been in your hand.

Izuku notices at the exact same time you do, those green eyes widening as he somehow manages to carefully drop you back onto your desk and fly backward so fast you wonder if he’s used his quirk.

You bite your lip, looking sheepishly back at the news reporter and camera crew that had caught the entire scene. His manager is going to murder the two of you.

“Uh… Deku’s here now. Thank you for your patience.”


	3. Nagi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one person’s face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead

Logically, you know it’s silly of you to be feeling this way (and, really, a little insulting to Nagi). If he didn’t want to date you, he wouldn’t have agreed to be your boyfriend. It hasn’t even been a week; he’s never been a very communicative or touchy guy, and it’s not as if he shies away when you hug him or seems annoyed when you double text.

Still, you can’t help the little nagging voice in the back of your head that says he’s only humoring you, that he doesn’t really like you, that you’re only annoying him every time you text and breaking his boundaries every time you touch him. And you feel like if you tell him, it’ll only make him more annoyed; you don’t want to be  _ clingy _ , you’ve barely been dating a week.

So instead you ask to play a game of soccer with him.

It’s a simple game, using the ball he’s brought from his apartment and deeming a set of trees the goalposts (only one, because you’re just playing around and there’s no need to decide on two goals). You know he’s going easy on you. The fact that you have the ball most of the time is proof of that.

Nagi’s smiling, though. He doesn’t say much, just some mild encouragement and laughing at your poor form. You don’t even have the right shoes, he tells you a good way in—and then gestures at his own, assuring you that he didn’t wear his cleats anyway.

You think, at least, that he’s definitely enjoying this. But then you miss your fifth shot in a row and that insecurity starts seeping in.

It’s just as ridiculous, because you  _ know _ he rarely likes to try and he’s probably happier that you’re godawful and stand no chance because it means he doesn’t even have to approach half-assing it, but for whatever reason you get it into your head that he’s disappointed that you can’t keep up.

He’s some crazy amazing soccer prodigy and you’re just… you. He deserves to be with someone who can keep up.

You go to shoot another shot, putting all your frustrations into your kick in the hopes that it’ll somehow make you aim better, but then there are arms around you and they’re swinging you around.

You shriek, fully caught up in your own head as your feet lift from the ground. It registers then that it’s just Nagi and you’re immediately flustered as he sets you back down, unused to him initiating that kind of contact.

“Wh—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head and looking up at him as you wrinkle your nose. “I don’t think that’s a real play.”

“It’s not,” he says simply, offering no other explanation.

You’re left pouting slightly, face scrunching up as your eyes land on the now forgotten ball, acutely aware of his arms still around you.

It’s as if he can tell that you’re getting back in your head, because he dips down and presses a brief peck to your lips, startling you entirely. Your mouth drops open, eyes wide and cross-eyed to watch as he doesn’t retreat fully but rather moves upward to kiss away the wrinkles on your forehead.

_ Then _ he really pulls away, looking at your expression and chuckling slightly.

“You’re cute,” he says simply, leaning in once more to press a final kiss to the tip of your nose.


	4. Shigaraki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

A soft tap at your window wakes you up.

It’s a little past midnight. You haven’t been getting much sleep, but considering the circumstances that’s not exactly surprising. You’re about to turn over in bed when you hear another.

It’s quiet, but undeniable. You ease yourself out of the covers—still a little groggy from the deep slumber you’d awoken from—and pad over to the window, grabbing your boyfriend’s hoodie (the one he’d left the last time he’d visited) and tugging it over your scantily clad torso. If it’s him, he’ll appreciate it; if it’s not, they really shouldn’t be seeing what you wore to bed.

You hope it’s Tomura. You haven’t heard from him in weeks, but you know from the news that he hasn’t been arrested. Perhaps you ought to be prepared for this by now, considering exactly  _ who _ he is, but you get used to him visiting daily for weeks on end and consistent communication through texting until he suddenly drops off, as ever, for a week or two. He always says it’s for your safety, and you don’t exactly  _ disbelieve _ him but that doesn’t make you fully ok with it.

It  _ is _ him, you see as you open your window. Not that it could have been anyone else, because who else would stand beneath your room on the second floor dressed in jeans and a baggy black hoodie to toss rocks at your glass paned window.

He likes to do that. You’re pretty sure it's because he thinks it’s romantic.

“Shiggy?” you call down, voice hushed.

He doesn’t respond verbally and he doesn’t lower the hood of his sweatshirt from over his eyes, but he does look up and raise a hand (gloved; those two-fingered one you’d gotten him back when you’d first started dating).

There’s no real way to get up to your window from the ground, but Tomura’s never let that stop him. You’ve left a crate strategically beneath it and it gives him the few inches he needs to get a solid grip on the bottom of the open frame and lift himself up.

He’s kissing you the moment a foot finds purchase within your room. He’s still half out the window, and he hasn’t said a single word to you, but you can tell just how much he’s missed you by how desperate his lips are. You let his enthusiasm sweep you up and kiss him back with just as much vicor until it registers that one of his legs is still dangling outside and you pull back.

“Come in,” you insist, barely able to get it out because his lips are back on yours instantly. You didn’t really have to say anything anyway, because he’s obeyed solely to keep kissing you, surging all the way into your room and stumbling slightly over his lanky legs as his hands come up to hold you and stop you from moving away again.

“Missed you,” he manages to finally say, mumbled out and muffled as he apparently can’t bring himself to part from you for longer than a millisecond. “Just wanna feel you.”

You missed him, too, but with your mouth well occupied you’ll have to wait to return his sentiment.


	5. Bokuto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

After nearly a year of living together, mornings with Bokuto have finally fallen into place.

They’d been one of the most difficult parts of the whole thing. You love your boyfriend—obviously, or you wouldn’t be living with him—but he wakes up  _ way too early _ . Even in the middle of summer when the sun rises too soon he’s awake before it. And you signed up for it, really, because he’s a professional athlete and he’s constantly working out, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.

At first, he’d wake you up. Not on purpose, no; in fact despite his best efforts, Bokuto always managed to rouse you somehow, be it simply removing himself from your arms a little too quickly or tripping over his own running shoes in the dark. You know he’s trying his best, but it’s hard not to snap at him when he wakes you simultaneously far too early in the morning and  _ far _ too late at night.

Then, well, once you got used to sleeping through his early morning routine, you’d wake up alone.

And somehow, that’s almost worse. At least when he’d wake you up you’d get apologies and a storm of kisses; waking up to a cold bed without your long-time boyfriend has very little benefits. You don’t even sleep in all that much, because it’s precisely the lack of your favorite teddy bear that ruins your sleep.

You’d often get up, dressing and making yourself a cup of coffee and waiting for Bokuto to return from his run so that you can teasingly refuse to hug his sweaty form until he showers and  _ then _ give him a good morning kiss right as he leaves the steamy bathroom. But soon your lack of sleep is getting to you.

And you realize, the first time you roll over and go back to sleep upon waking to that empty bed, that Bokuto will wake you up himself if you stay in.

It’s  _ nearly _ perfect. Perfect is the rare occasions when he doesn’t have to take his morning run and he can stay with you, your head buried in his chest and his chin on your hair, legs tangled together and arms holding each other impossibly close, until the two of you slowly awaken and can spend the morning snuggled together under the blanket. Unfortunately that can’t be every day (he has a regimen to keep up, after all), but this is a close second.

He kisses you awake.

He comes back from his run, hops straight into the shower, comes out with his towel wrapped securely around his waist, and then kneels down next to your side of the bed.

It starts with a quick peck on the forehead, a soft murmur of your name. Then two over your closed eyelids, then one on your nose—all quick, all chaste—before those soft lips finally settle on your mouth.

Each one wakes you up further until you’re fully awake and kissing him back, arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him closer. He pulls back too soon every time, still kneeling there for you to see as your eyes flutter open and you blink away the remaining sleep.

His hair is always down, still wet, a little lopsided grin as he looks down at you and says, every time without fail, “Good morning, princess.”


	6. Gagamaru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing

Your heart always aches when Gagamaru gets hurt.

You know it’s his playstyle. It works for him, he’s  good at playing. But the number of goals he scores doesn’t stop you from wincing every time he slams face-first into a goal post for the third time in as many minutes. The first time you watched him play a game you had to look away almost every time he’d taken the ball.

And, well, that’s more than disappointing, not being able to see him in action. You feel a little foolish for it—you’re not the one getting hurt, after all—but really, what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t take issue with watching him get beat up by the sport itself on a daily basis.

Every time you see him he has a new bruise or scrape. He’ll give you that great dopey smile every time you mention one, those big doe-like eyes wide as he assures you that he’s used to it, but you worry.

This inability to watch him get hurt is what ultimately makes you realize that you might have a crush on him.

Your roommate mentions it one night. It’s not from out of nowhere; the two of you are watching a televised game of his, and she laughs when you flinch away, leading you to whine at her and attempt to defend yourself only for her to say, quite plainly, “I think you’re just in love with him.”

You start carrying around first aid supplies after that, and you’re thankful for it within a week.

It’s at the birthday party of a mutual friend; your little friend group gets carry-out and goes to eat it at the local park, finding yourselves a quiet (though not for long) little area just along the edge of the woods. Gagamaru, predictable as ever, has brought a soccer ball and spends much of the meal convincing the others to play (he spends quite some time on you, more so than the others, his pout reserved only for your consistent refusal despite his offer to teach you). Five minutes in he does some ridiculous move and runs his knee bloody on the grass.

Your roommate and the birthday boy, both still sitting on the picnic blanket with you, practically shove you and your first aid supplies at him before not-so-subtly dragging all the others away under the guise of going to get ice cream for dessert. It’s okay; you didn’t exactly fall for Gagamaru for his intellect and he doesn’t notice anything suspicious as the others clear out, only pouts and asks them to get something for the two of you.

Then you’re alone together, having moved him to perch slightly awkwardly on a nearby retaining wall so that you can stand before him between his legs and treat his knee.

“You’re so reckless,” you berate, unable to keep the smile off your face when he hisses in pain from the antiseptic.

“I’m fine.”

“Well, I worry.”

“Too much.”

You glance up, face growing hot immediately from the way he’s looking at you so intently. Your head snaps back down, busying yourself with cleaning his knee and the area around the scrape to prep for the bandage. If you don’t look up you can’t be distracted by him.

But then Gagamaru kisses you.

He doesn’t say anything, he just leans forward and ducks under your lowered head so that he can connect your lips. It’s soft and sweet, over too soon, barely giving you any time to respond. You’re left slightly dazed, knee treatment forgotten, when he pulls away—though not entirely, keeping his body leaning in towards yours.

You blink at him, mouth slack with shock, and he raises his arm to place a large hand on the top of your head.

“You’re too pretty to worry over me.”


	7. Todoroki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Top of head kisses

You don’t believe your husband when he promises to be home for dinner, but there’s a little part of you that  _ hopes _ . It’s that part which drives you to do your best; you’ve been wanting to make him cold soba for about as long as you’ve been with him but timing has always been the greatest enemy of your relationship.

You pull out all the stops, dressing up nicely and setting the table with the fancy dishes and putting out candles (unlit, because he’s a cliche and likes to light them himself in what you teasingly describe as a primal display of quirk prowess). And then you settle down on the couch to wait for the man who’s already fifteen minutes late.

Shouto is a good hero—he’s the number three, according to the latest hero charts, which he’s more than happy with despite his high school friend Bakugo rubbing his status one place ahead in his face. You don’t blame your husband for prioritizing work; you married him after three years of living with him, you knew what to expect. But it feels as if you haven’t seen him in weeks, and though you’re trying not to seem too needy, it’d be nice to at least have dinner with him every once in a while.

He’s working on a hard mission right now. You don’t know the details for your safety, of course, but you do know he’s been working long hours, coming home exhausted and leaving before you can wake up. You know he’s not getting enough sleep, but you don’t even see him enough to berate him for it.

You try not to text him too much tonight. You really don’t mind him missing dinner—you’d known all along that he wouldn’t make it, so really, no harm done. You hadn’t been blindsided.

Sometime after setting the table, probably a good few hours after the sun sets and long past the time Shouto should have come home, you fall asleep. You feel it coming, and really you ought to have awoken yourself long enough to get ready for bed and move off of the couch, but you really do want to stay up for him. You let yourself nod off, promising yourself you’ll wake up before he finally gets home.

What really wakes you up is strong arms lifting you from the couch.

Shouto’s being incredibly careful, one arm under your knees and the other around your back to securely carry you against his chest, almost holding you like you’re fragile. You’re pretty sure he’s trying not to wake you, though he’s solidly failed in that mission, which he figures out fairly quickly.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he tells you softly.

You groan, not entirely elegant in your still-groggy state. “Shouto? Dinner’s on the table.”

“I put it away. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“S’okay. Shoulda gone to bed. Back’s gonna kill me in the morning.”

He chuckles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ve got you.”

He carries you into your shared bedroom, helping you into nightclothes before joining you under the covers and pulling you close. Sure, dinner would have been nice; but this is plenty, you think. He’s really all you need.


	8. Mr. Compress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

You wish you could say you planned this, but it’s almost better that it’s fate. There, before you, stands your former partner in crime (literally), and you’d be a fool not to understand that he’s here for the same thing you are—but to steal it, or to protect it? Either would be fun.

“Been a while, Hiro!”

His head whips around to you as you laugh, bracing your foot up on the railing of the catwalk you’re looking down at him from.

You haven’t seen Atsuhiro in a year and a bit, not since he and you decided to part ways after a few months of utter paradise together, deciding mutually that getting attached in your shared line of work was, perhaps, not the greatest of plans.

Unfortunately, as the saying goes, absence makes the heart grow stronger, and it’s impossible to deny or resist the grin on your face when you see him, or the way your heart flutters when you see the familiar mask on his face (you’d made it for him, all those months ago; kind of cheesy, looking back, but he’s wearing it).

“This is a pleasant surprise.” He takes off the mask, leaving him in his balaclava. “You look well, my dear.”

“Yeah? You like the new suit?” You shove yourself off the catwalk, letting yourself fall slightly before activating your quirk to pop up right behind him, back-to-back. Your gloved hand finds a familiar home on his chest, splayed and slightly awkward until you turn heel smoothly to face him, keeping your front pressed against his arm. “Giran got it for me. I think it suits me.”

“Many things suit you, beautiful.”

“I’m glad you still agree.” There’s a large wooden crate right in front of him, so you use your quirk again, eyes locking on the top of it so that you pop in right there, watching in amusement and satisfaction as Atsuhiro stumbles just slightly, already having been leaning into you for the mere moments you’d touched him.

“Where’s the shipment, love?” you ask, soft and sweet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hum, stepping towards the crate’s edge and then dropping down to sit fully with your legs dangling over the side.

“You do  _ so _ , Hiro, but we can put that on hold a moment. It’s been  _ ages _ . I heard you’re running with the League of Villains.” You pout, tilting your head, relishing in the way his eyes lock onto your lips. “I hope you haven’t replaced me so easily.”

“Nobody could replace  _ you _ , dearest. You know that.”

“Just checking.”

“You ought to consider joining up. The boss would love to have you.”

“The boss?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I would love to have you,” he corrects without missing a beat.

You hum again, swinging your legs and propping your head in your hand as if considering it. “It’d have to pay well, you know the life I lead, handsome.”

“Better than your employer tonight?” Atsuhiro reaches into his jacket and pulls out your phone—a burner that had been in your back pocket, ready for him to take.

“You’ve always been so good with your hands,” you purr, leaning forward. “The shipment. Did you marble it? Where are you hiding it?”

You try not to grin when he subconsciously does as you’d been enticing him to do and approaches you. He’s marbled the shipment, certainly, and you have a hunch where he’s hiding it. You just need access to his mouth, which you’re more than happy to have an excuse to do.

Your arms come to rest over his shoulders as you bend down, tilting his head upward so that you can kiss him.

For a moment, you allow yourself into the bliss that is kissing Atsuhiro. You’ve missed him, truly; if you can execute your plans fully, if everyone does as they ought to, perhaps in a week’s time you’ll take up his offer and join his League, at which point you’ll be able to do this as often as you’d like.

But your employer is paying you more than handsomely to steal Shigaraki Tomura’s shipment, and you’re not going to half-ass that. So you’re happy to discover the marble tucked under your former lover’s tongue. He’s solidly distracted by your hands tracing over his cloth-covered scalp like you know he loves and doesn’t notice until you’re pulling away, eyes locked back up on the catwalk so that your quirk can teleport you there before he can recover from your kiss.

The marble in your mouth and the hat in your hand are all the victory you need, but you stall for a moment, happily placing his hat upon your head and plucking the marble from your mouth to place into your pocket (he won’t open it, you know, with the risk that you’ll be hurt).

“Arrivederci, Hiro,” you announce, bowing with a flourish.

Then you’re running off, reaching into the pocket of your suit to pull out the antique spyglass that’s become your staple to teleport far away, but not before you hear Atsuhiro call after you, “Well played, darling.”


	9. Shinsou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly  _ close _ until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on  _ you _ ; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a  _ very _ passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.


	10. Shigaraki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be  _ jealous _ when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first  _ everything _ , and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is  _ Grand Commander _ he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports.  _ You’re _ the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has  _ your _ legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on  _ your _ thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because  _ you’re _ the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of  _ her _ . You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows  _ you _ well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but  _ intimacy _ is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there:  _ tell me so I can destroy it for you _ . In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what  _ exactly _ is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m  _ quirkless _ . I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time  _ he _ comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.


	11. Kaminari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting with a kiss meant to be gentle, ending up in passion

Denki, for all his many incredible traits, is not the best boyfriend when it comes to school.

To be fair, he’s a pro hero, he never had to go to college. But you’re pretty sure if you were dating his friend Bakugo you wouldn’t have to explain that yes, despite the fact that you’ve graduated high school and are an adult with a job, you still have to study for midterms.

Not that you’d prefer to be dating Bakugo. You’ll take Denki distracting you from your studies to what would likely be aggressive tutoring from a man who doesn’t have more than a high school level knowledge of the subjects you’re learning.

And distracting is kind of an understatement. You’ve been trying to study for your midterms for a week now and each time you’ve had to physically hide your phone from yourself. Despite being on do not disturb, you don’t have the self control to keep yourself from opening your messages with him every five minutes, inevitably seeing his responses and continuing the conversation. He’s hard to ignore, and infinitely more compelling to give your attention over your dusty old textbooks and lacking notes.

As such, it’s hard not to feel discouraged or blame yourself as midterms loom ever closer and you feel so very unprepared. You know, logically, that you haven’t been  _ that _ bad at studying, and that you’d likely be feeling this stressed anyway, but there’s a nagging little part of you that says it’s because you’ve allowed yourself to slack.

You try not to let Denki notice, he’s got his own problems—he’s a pro hero for fuck’s sake—but he does.

And the guilt sets in the first time he asks if he’s done something wrong. You tell him of course not, that you’re focusing on school, but you  _ know _ it doesn’t really sink in. School as a concept has been long behind him for years. For you, well, you’re in your senior year of college. Things are only heating up.

You can’t promise that you’ll be less distant, because all your energy has to be put into your schoolwork. You’re not canceling dates because you never have the time to make any, and you barely see Denki in person except when he stops by at the boba shop when you’re working the counter.

Finally, one night, your studying is interrupted by a knock at the door.

You answer, more confused than anything, and delighted if a little disappointed to find your blond dumbass of a boyfriend standing there.

“Hey,” he greets. “How’s the best student ever doing?”

You lean against the door frame, pursing your lips. It’s only a few days before your midterms start. Letting him in is dangerous.

“Stressed,” you decide on saying. “Missing my boyfriend.”

“Funny, I’ve been missing you too, babe.”

The both of you pause. It’s not entirely awkward, just heavy. Then he takes a step forward and kisses you.

You can tell he meant it to be quick. You don’t mind that it’s not. In fact, to be perfectly honest, you encourage it, pressing into him and not letting him pull away. Unsurprisingly, he’s more than receptive as he chuckles lightly into the kiss and pushes you back out of the open doorway and solidly into your apartment. Kicking the door closed behind him, he enthusiastically presses you back against the wall of your hallway and lets his hands trail down the side of your body.

You’re both panting when he pulls away finally. His forehead rests against yours and he doesn’t open his eyes, but he manages to gasp out, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… it’s just been a bit.”

You giggle breathlessly. “S’okay, I needed it more than you did.”

“Yanno if you study too much you’ll burn yourself out.”

“Will I?”

“Yeah.” He pulls back, grabbing your hand to lead you back into your apartment. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you take a break.”


	12. Kirishima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

You’re not entirely sure how this ended up happening, but you’re certainly not complaining.

To be honest, you’ve been crushing on Ejiro for months. You’d met him through Mina and promptly been rescued by him a week later, immediately falling hard. It’d have been a feat not to, with how friendly he is and that dashing smile and those  _ muscles _ . Pro heroes have a tendency to be large, certainly, but he’s over two whole meters tall and bulky as all hell—only Sero comes close to his height, but his presence isn’t nearly so imposing thanks to his slender build.

Ejiro, though, is the kind of guy who’d be intimidating if he weren’t an actual ray of sunshine. It’s that combo which draws you to him; for months you’re haunted by the memory of his strong arms as he pulled you out of a collapsing building, and it’s only exacerbated by the way he grins at you whenever he sees you.

You think he’s just being friendly, but that idea is entirely crushed tonight.

It’s his birthday party, but you don’t know that until after you arrive at the bar. Mina had invited you mere hours beforehand, and when you overhear a newcomer wishing him a happy birthday, you pull her to the side to hiss out a question: why hadn’t she informed you? You hadn’t brought a present.

She just grins and tells you that you  _ are _ a present, and then leaves without any further explanation.

You have no clue how she does it, but you’re absolutely certain this is her doing.

You and Ejiro are both a little tipsy, but not nearly enough to be fully inebriated—just enough to be bold, and enough to be a little hazy on the details of how you’ve ended up here. You’re still not complaining, though; you’ve practically been fantasizing about this since the moment you met him.

He’s on you the moment you cross the threshold of the apartment he shares with Bakugo, kicking the door closed as his hands fly to pull you close and he kisses you. You’ve been here before, so you have a vague notion of where you ought to be headed as you blindly move backward and force him to come with you in order to keep kissing you.

Perhaps it’s simply because you’re eager, or perhaps it’s because Ejiro’s presence fogs your mind, or maybe it’s just the adrenaline high of getting to do something you never dreamed you’d get to do, but all elegance has left your body. You’re a clumsy mess, tripping over your own feet and stumbling into furniture, but to be fair he’s so damn big it’s hard to feel anything other than his hands on you and his thick arms and his plush lips.

He gives an affectionate nibble on your lower lip with those sharp teeth and your legs turn to jelly, forcing you to fall down onto the console table behind you. It shakes, and you wince at the sound of multiple knick knacks toppling over, at least two dropping onto the floor.

You and Ejiro pull away momentarily—not far, he’s still holding you tightly and when he speaks it’s practically into your mouth, not even looking down.

“Bakugo’s gonna kill me,” he mutters, clearly unconcerned as his grip tightens and he hoists you up with one of those powerful arms braced so that you’re practically sitting on his forearm. He swallows your uncontrollable giggle, grinning into the reinvigorated kiss as you let yourself explore him.

It’s arguably no less clumsy, but it’s  _ his _ apartment, so you feel less guilty about it. You’re pretty sure he’s attempting to make it to his bedroom at first, but then you feel him stumble and there’s a bigger crash and you’re pretty sure he knocks over an end table with a lamp and some coasters on it, and he seems to decide it’s best not to move very far because he turns and presses you up against a wall.

Where you’d been clutching his bicep before, you let your hand fly up to his hair; it’s pulled back in a ponytail like always, so you pull it out of the elastic and roll the very thing onto your wrist while he busies himself with using those teeth on your neck.

“Been wanting this for too damn long,” he breathes into your skin, and you grin at the revelation.

“Mmm,” you hum, “if it’s half as long as  _ I _ have, we’ve got months to make up for.”

He doesn’t bother talking, only groaning against you as he pulls back and attempts to capture your lips again.

You don’t let him, turning your head teasingly and lunging forward to nip at his ear and draw out another low, husky sound. “Happy birthday, my big,  _ strong _ hero.”


	13. Werewolf!Shidou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

It’s rare for you to wake up before Ryusei, but you’re more than happy it’s happened. It’s the cold that rouses you, having turned over sometime in the night away from your person-shaped space heater (who loves to hog the damn blankets) and shaking, literally, awake.

You blink the sleep from your eyes, shivering profusely (your teeth are literally chattering, dear god). The sun’s first rays are beginning to light up the room, but they don’t provide nearly as much warmth as your boyfriend ought to be giving you.

Rolling over, you find him still sleeping peacefully, face peaceful as he lays on his side facing you. He’s got all the blankets tugged close to his body. Months ago, back when spending the night together was new, you’d have hesitated to pry the fabric from his grip. Now, you don’t pause, forcing your way into his arms and shoving your freezing feet against his.

You watch his face scrunch up in annoyance, but his arms find their way around your body anyway and he pulls you impossibly close despite the temperature. You’re more than happy; he runs hot—a product of his inhuman state of being—and on cold fall mornings like this you’re forever grateful and more than willing to take advantage, even if it’s his fault you’re so cold.

It’s more than comfortable in his arms like this. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the heavy beat of your heart in your ear as you press your head against his chest sooth you and bid you to fall asleep again. You almost give in to the lull, but you know that if you do he’ll wake up before you do, and you so rarely get to enjoy his uncharacteristically soft early morning self.

Instead, you let yourself get distracted by his ears. You’ve always loved them; from the moment you’d met him you’d been enthralled, but unsurprisingly he’d only just recently become comfortable enough to let you touch them.

You reach up, ignoring the sting of chilly air on your bare arm as you remove it from the blanket, and let yourself give in to the impulse to stroke the fur.

It’s the same color as his hair, almost indistinguishable except that it’s so much softer. You pinch the tip between your thumb and forefinger (gently, obviously) and stroke there, a gesture you’ve learned he enjoys.

He’s still asleep, but the ear flicks, and his nose wrinkles slightly. You can’t help but lean in and kiss the tip, quickly and fleetingly, just long enough to rouse him just a little more from his sleep.

Then you lean up further and kiss the base of the ear you’d just touched. Now he’s really waking up; you can tell because you feel the bed shake and the blankets shift as his tail starts to wag.

Ryusei shuffles, tugging you ever closer and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Laughing breathlessly in response, you just wrap your own arms around your neck so that your hands can find his ears again, repeating the motion from before more intently.

He pulls back, eyes still closed as his mouth tugs up in a lazy grin that shows off his fangs and he mumbles a husky, “Mornin’”

You kiss him, for real this time, capturing that lazy smile and sweetly pressing your lips to his before he can fully wake up and take control. He tries anyway, tugging you over without breaking the kiss so that you’re lying fully on top of him with your hands still stroking at his soft ears.

When you finally do pull away, his eyes blink open, and that lazy, content smile returns. You give him one last kiss, pressed against his jaw, before you finally speak. “Good morning, puppy.”


	14. Tensei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing

When you first started dating Tensei, you knew that this would be the hardest part.

You’re both incredibly dedicated to your jobs. In a way, that’s nice; with him just as much of a workaholic, you don’t have to deal with the ultimatums you’ve gotten from previous partners. The two of you have always understood each other, even back when you were just friends pretending you didn’t want anything more, so you know he’d never demand you choose between him and your job (and if he ever did, well, he’d be a massive hypocrite).

But sometimes you both need a reminder that work isn’t everything. And in a way, that’s nice, too; it’s entirely mutual, in fact you almost alternate exactly which of you is staying too late and which of you needs to show up at 11pm with takeout because you know the other hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

Tonight, you’re the one marching through the doors of your fiancé’s agency with a plastic bag full of food in hand.

His secretary greets you with a cheerful but tired smile; she tends to hang around a little when he does this, just in case he needs her, but she’s packing up as you approach the door to his office and you give her a little wave with your free hand to send her off.

Tensei is slumped over his desk within; you’re not really sure at first if he’s even awake or if he’s fallen asleep with his paperwork as a pillow, but then he raises his head to look at you, mumbling out your name, and you lift the food in your hand as a response.

You watch his brow furrow, bleary eyes trying to focus on the food as if he can when he’s forgotten that he’s wearing his reading glasses and everything more than a foot away is blurry (and you note with a little fuzzy feeling in your chest that, despite his god awful vision, he can tell it’s you simply from the blurry outline of your body, because you haven’t even spoken… that’s sweet. Cute).

“We’re gonna have dinner,” you tell him, “and then you’re coming home.”

“Aye-aye.” He’s back already, voice alert and eyes sharp not even a minute later, with that charming smile directed at you. “I’ve just gotta finish these reports first.”

You hum, making a show of considering it, before you set the food down and drop yourself into the plush chair in front of his desk. “Make it quick.”

“Of course. I’d never keep you waiting.”

Clearly reinvigorated by your presence (or perhaps the food), he inches his chair closer to his desk and picks up his pen, back straighter as he gets back to work with renewed motivation. You’re pleased to note that it’s the smaller pile he starts on; hopefully that means he’s almost done.

But as the papers slowly dwindle, you’re the one who becomes distracted. You so rarely get to see him wearing those glasses (probably because way back when you two were just friends you made the mistake of telling him he looks like his little brother with them on) so you find yourself ogling him, noting the way he scrunches up his nose or bites his lower lip when he passes over something displeasing in the reports.

And you don’t consider yourself a particularly needy partner, but sitting in his office for this long with his attention focused elsewhere while you’re unabashedly staring kind of makes you want to scream. So you do the impulsive thing and just follow your whims.

You rise from your seat, approach the desk, grab him by his tie, and kiss him.

For how much you’ve surprised him, Tensei doesn’t give much of a reaction. He lets out a little noise, something like a quiet yelp that trails off into a whine, and melts into your lips. You hear his pen clatter as it drops to the floor, followed swiftly by the scrape of his chair as he rises to his feet to kiss you fully.

You pull away just as he gets there, mouth widening into a wicked grin at the disappointed noise he makes when you let go of his tie and take your three steps back into your seat. He’s left standing with a cute pout on his face, lips kissed pink, hair slightly mussed, glasses askew. You pull your own lip between your teeth and stifle your giggle at the betrayed look he’s giving you.

“Finish your reports, Ingenium,” you tell him simply, relishing the groan he gives you in return.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”


	15. Vampire!Sero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the kiss with a series of kisses down the neck

You don’t hear your boyfriend come in, but that’s not entirely strange. He’s a vampire, after all; he’s taken to flying in through the window as a bat (he claims it’s for convenience; you’re pretty sure it’s so that he can do stuff exactly like this).

You’re sitting sideways on the couch, legs sprawled out along the cushions as you lean against the arm. You found an old family spellbook in the back of your closet earlier and are reading through it, thoroughly engrossed until cold hands settle over your eyes.

“If you ask me to guess who, I’m kicking you out,” you say immediately.

Hanta’s weary laugh makes you smile. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.”

You go to respond, but he captures your lips before you can speak, tilting your head back slightly and sliding his chilly fingers over your face to hold either side of your head as he kisses you upside down.

“Long day?” you murmur as he eases off, not entirely expecting an answer but receiving one anyway in the form of a low, tired grunt of agreement. What doesn’t surprise you is his mouth tracing over your face to press lips against the outside of your ear, and then trail down, a path of open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, not entirely shying away from the scrape of his fangs on the delicate skin there. You snort out an affectionate laugh, eyes fluttering closed. “Not being subtle tonight, are we?”

“Too tired for seduction,” he breathes against you. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“You’ll make it up to me tonight after you drink.”

His lips quirk up into a smile as he places a final kiss to your neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

Again he takes you by surprise, this time by pulling away. You shift slightly from your spot, moving to turn around and see what he’s doing, but one of those cold hands darts out at an inhuman speed to lay you back down again and he appears next to you, kneeling on the ground beside the couch with your arm in hand.

You let yourself relax as Hanta turns your arm over to kiss the inside of your wrist, then bares his teeth and sinks in.

It’s hardly the first time you’ve let him do this; it’s practically routine at this point, letting him drink from various places of your body, and perhaps there’s a lot of trust involved but you’ve well passed the stage where you might feel any kind of anxiousness as he removes his teeth and drinks deeply.

You can practically see his weariness fade away. He’s always maintained that your blood is particularly energizing to him, often cooing between kisses that it’s because you love him so much, and you’re inclined to believe him as you watch his shoulders straighten and his eyes brighten, darting up to meet your gaze and wink at you cheekily.

By the time he pulls away, the puncture wounds are healing over already; the combination of your magical healing factor and his venom’s clotting properties speeds the process. Within hours it’ll be like nothing happened.

He’s buzzing with energy, too, and he leans back down to lick away a little droplet of blood that had escaped him, then holds your hand up to his cheek and turns into it to kiss the center of your palm.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, mouth wide in that signature grin showing off the fangs he’d just used on you.

“No problem.” There’s endeared laughter in your voice; you’re probably enjoying this little domestic scene a little too much.

Hanta rises to his feet, placing your arm gently on your lap and then bending over to kiss you sweetly on the forehead. “Lemme cook you dinner in return, then I’ll make it up to you as promised.”

You tilt your head before he can get away, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and pull him down into a full-blown kiss before letting him go. “Sounds good. I’m holding you to it.”


	16. Werewolf!Bakugo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s

Though you’ve known Bakugo pretty much your whole life, there’s a lot about werewolves that you don’t know.

If he were a different person, he probably wouldn’t be telling you at 5:47 on his 21st birthday that he’s apparently supposed to figure out who his soulmate is going to be tonight. If he weren’t so closed off, even to his best friend of over a decade and a half, then perhaps you wouldn’t be having this conversation, and perhaps it wouldn’t feel quite like pulling teeth.

“You have a soulmate?” is really all you can say, because most of your mental capacity is going towards keeping the sob in the back of your throat from being audible.

“Yeah,” he grunts. He’s not even looking at you, because he’s holding his phone in one hand and he’s scrolling through it, and though the two of you are sitting on opposite sides of the couch he has your feet in his lap, free arm wrapped all the way around them like he doesn’t want you to leave. “It’s… I dunno. Kinda cool, I guess.”

“All of you have soulmates?”

“Well, yeah. You witches don’t?”

You wrinkle your nose, trying your hardest to ignore the burning at the backs of your eyes. “No. We don’t.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see him purse his lips, as if troubled by the revelation. “Huh. How d’you know who’s the one, then?”

“We just. Figure it out? I guess. Is this why you’ve never dated anyone?”

“Yeah. Not really interested in anyone but my destined.”

He says it so easily, but you know him well enough to understand. He likes the idea of a soulmate; he’s looking forward to figuring out who they are tonight. Who would have guessed that he was a romantic?

It’s awful. It makes your chest burn. You’d only come to terms with your crush on the guy two months ago. Now he’s gonna be taken from you by some random person he’s never met?

No, you suppose, he’s always belonged to them. That’s how it works, right?

“D’you know who it’ll be?”

“Hah?  _ No _ , dumbass, if I did that would defeat the purpose.” Bakugo pauses, glancing over at you with just his eyes, then darting them away just as fast. It’s probably just a trick of the light, but you could swear he blushes a little as he mumbles, “I know who I  _ want _ it to be, though.”

Your eyes widen and you lean up, pulling your legs back (ignoring the way his hands tense before letting them go as if he wants to hold on) so that you can kneel on them right next to him. “Who?”

“Not happening.”

“Bakugo,” you whine, drawing out the last syllable of his name.

“I’m not telling you, brat.”

You lean forward, prodding at his cheek. “Is it Mina?”

“ _ No _ .”

“Jirou?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Kirishima?”

Bakugo growls out your name, a warning, but you don’t pull away, getting even closer until you’re practically draped over him.

“Todoroki?”

He grabs you, whipping towards you as his arms fly up to wrap around your waist and yank you off him, tossing you back to your side of the couch as you shriek in laughter. He’d never hurt you, you know, and roughhousing like this is hardly new in your friendship; plus, well, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been hoping to feel his big, warm hands like this. Despite all his surprises tonight, he’s still all too predictable, and you’d seen this coming a mile away.

What you don’t see coming is him pausing, braced with one arm against the couch all too close to you, holding his torso over you with his head right above yours. And he stares, those crimson eyes unreadable with an expression you’ve never seen before, locked entirely on you.

You can feel his chest rising and falling steadily against yours, and your own eyes are drawn to where his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. You’re frozen, unable to move though you’d hardly want to anyway, and it hits you like a brick what he’s  _ really _ been saying the whole night.

You open your mouth to speak, but then the hazy tension is shattered by the shrill sound of his phone.

Bakugo lunges away, pulls back with inhuman werewolf speed, grabbing his phone as he leaps to his feet. “‘S my mom, sundown’s soon, I have to go.”

“Wait, Bakugo—”

“See ya tomorrow, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, already half out the door.

“ _ Katsuki _ ,” you try, desperate, and it makes him freeze.

The door is open, his knuckles are pale with how tight he’s gripping the knob, but as much as you’ve tried it’s not enough. He’s gone without another word.

  
  


You don’t get to sleep that night.

It’s dumb; he’ll lecture you in the morning as he tells you all about his perfect amazing werewolf  _ destined _ —that was what he’d called it, right? You prefer soulmate. Mate is a wolf thing anyway—who he’s spending all night with, running around in the forest howling at the moon and making out or whatever.

You stay out in the den, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped around you, ice cream in your lap, and an old movie playing that you’re not really listening to because you’ve been too wrapped up in your own head.

For an instant, you’d been so sure. A mere moment of absolute certainty that he was just as in love with you as you are him, that your oblivious pining for years was actually reciprocated. In the hours since he’d pinned you to the couch, you’d convinced yourself otherwise.

Imagine your surprise when there’s a frantic knocking at your door.

It startles you, making you jump about ten feet up in the air, and you freeze on the couch with wide eyes and a gaping mouth staring directly at the solid wood that seems to be shaking in its hinges. You’re halfway to casting a protection charm when a familiar gruff voice shouts your name from outside.

“I know you’re awake, I can hear you in there! Open the damn door!”

You glance at the time to find that it’s just under fifteen minutes to midnight. Awfully soon for him to be  _ done _ , but you rise from your spot on the couch with the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders and move to let Bakugo in.

“Coming,” you say, not bothering to be loud because you know he can hear even the shifting of your clothes beneath the blanket.

He looks downright  _ feral _ when you open the door, panting slightly, hair mussed up, eyes wild. But when he sees you, they light up, happy and excited like a damn puppy.

“Are you  _ drunk? _ ”

“Uh… kinda?”

“...Magical bullshit?”

He nods, a rough toss of his head to affirm. “Ancient rituals. Tipsy’s more accurate, if anything. Figured out who my destined is.”

“And you came to me? Shouldn’t you be with your soulmate, then?”

Bakugo blinks, clearly stunned, barking out a burst of laughter before shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ dumbass.”

You go to respond, more than a little insulted because he’s been acting so fucking  _ weird _ all day and he has the nerve to say you’re being dumb, but any retort is flung from your mind as he steps forward and puts his hands on your arms.

Leaning in until your noses are practically touching, he speaks. “It’s  _ you _ . It’s always been you.”

“H—huh?” you stutter out, heart stopping and mind reeling with his words.

“I wanted it to be you. And it’s you.” His hands slide down your arms to meet yours. “You’re my destined.”

There’s so much more to say, so much to ask him, everything ranging from  _ but I’m a witch, how is that possible _ to  _ so we could have been fucking dating this whole time _ but he doesn’t let you speak, clearly too overjoyed and inebriated, and you’re not entirely opposed when he yanks you in with exactly the level of roughness you’d imagine from him and kisses you.

And finally,  _ finally _ , after a decade and a half of wanting to (longer than you even knew what kissing was), you can melt into him.

You believe him then, not that you particularly  _ doubted _ . It’s like his lips are the missing piece to a puzzle, one you’ve been looking for your whole life. He holds you up with ease, werewolf strength coming in handy, as one hand laces with your own and the other darts to the small of your back. He’d be holding you closer, but you’re literally as close as you could be, body curving against him as his taller form hunches over you.

He kisses you far more sweetly than you’d have expected; no teeth or tongue but still all passion, heavy palm and fingers splayed across your back as the other hand pulls you and grounds you. It’s heated and it makes you forget that you’re both standing in the middle of the open front door at midnight.

You’re both reluctant to break away, you can tell because you both linger a little, bodies frozen as the kiss is followed by one, two, three more just as feverish but decreasing in length. Then the two of you pull away for real (not by much, no, he’s holding you far too intensely for you to get far) and you stumble backwards pulling him by his shirt into your home. He gets the hint, following and shutting the door behind you but not letting either of you make it very far beyond.

“All right,” you say finally, breathless both from the kiss and from giddy laughter bubbling up within you, “all right, you’re my soulmate.”

Bakugo kisses you again.


End file.
